His Destructive, Toxic Love

The man was dejected. He had only intended to scam a little money, but he ended up in a tight spot himself. Sure, rich people have money, but they're not fools. "I need you to recalculate this," he demanded.

Dillon nodded, "Sure."

...

Sliding into the passenger seat, Casper couldn't help but glance over at the woman beside him, concern etched on his face. "You weren't scared, were you?"

"No, just..." She shook her head gently, a hint of apology in her eyes. "...your car got a bit damaged..."

"Don't worry about it. Insurance will cover it," he reassured her.

Starting the car, he skillfully maneuvered the steering wheel and, leaving the cleanup to Dillon, drove away with Eliza. The mood inside the car was heavy, and she sat quietly, her head bowed, clearly shaken by the incident. The accident had taken a toll on her, leaving her in no mood for anything, let alone cooking.

Once they got home, she suggested, "How about we eat out tonight?"

Casper helped her off with her coat and led her to the living room. "First, let's take care of your wound so it doesn't get infected."

"It's nothing serious," she dismissed.

"Serious or not, I need to see it."

Blood had stained Eliza's white blouse. The man, who she remembered as cold, proud, and always distant, was now tenderly tending to her wound. His long fingers moved gently, as if afraid that a firmer touch would cause her pain. Bit by bit, he cleaned the wound with utmost care.

She couldn't ignore the tenderness and concern in his eyes. "If it hurts, let me know," he said softly, his voice as gentle as his touch.

Eliza shook her head lightly, "It doesn't hurt."

She had never seen this side of Casper before and it left her momentarily dazed. She turned her face away to avoid looking at him After finishing, he let out a deep breath. "The wound looks fine, it shouldn't leave a scar." Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

"Hmm," she murmured, rolling down her sleeve.

Casper stood up gracefully, took off his coat and hung it up, then rolled up his shirt sleeves. "I'll cook tonight. You should rest."

His smile was gentle, like a spring breeze, warm and calming. Eliza was momentarily taken aback. "I'm fine. I can do it."

"It's okay. It's just the two of us. I'll make something simple and quick," he assured her, heading to the kitchen.

Not wanting to be left out, Eliza

followed him quickly. Entering the kitchen, she was surprised to see that Casper had already organized the ingredients neatly on the counter. He looked both clumsy and somewhat adept at the same time.

When had he learned to do this? Or had he always known but just never bothered?

Standing at the kitchen doorway, she watched him. Despite his mix of clumsiness and skill, she couldn't help but smile. Clearly, he hadn't done much cooking before. He was just putting on a brave front.

"Let me do it," she offered softly, stepping forward.

"No need," he insisted.

Eliza furrowed her brow slightly and found a reasonable excuse. "I want to eat sooner rather than later. Let me handle it."

He couldn't argue with that. He knew he was slow. "Are you sure? Is your arm okay?"

"It's fine, just a minor injury," she replied, starting to cook.

He grabbed an apron and, moving behind her, tied it around her waist with a bow. The intimate gesture made Eliza blush slightly, a touch of red creeping up her ears.